Where Is Your Encouragement?

Most days, my initial shot of encouragement arrives by 6am. It comes fast and hard and without apology. It comes faster on days when my cycling instructor also happens to be a triathlete and training for something. Like this morning.

There were no breaks "out of the saddle" today. There were no subtle increases to gently move you from your flat road into a progressive hill. There were no intervals to shift the pain from one muscle group to another. No, no, no. Today was about endurance. Painful, long, fast, steady, seemingly never-ending endurance. Get on, get in, and get moving.

Why do I want to start a Wednesday with such an assault? It's only at this time of the day that I can effectively push my often running brain back far enough, and let my legs and lungs take over. My head is rarely quiet, so it is during these times when I can finally concentrate only on the task at hand. Periodic peace is not a bad thing.

I hear the music; I hear the faint yell of instruction behind it. My legs burn, my shoulders ache, my brain hums...there is no better way for me to start a weekday. Encouragement.

I admit that this is not for everyone. There is a certain breed of human that arrives at the Y around 5.30am to hurt and get yelled at. We are not like those that show up for the evening cycle classes. We are not there to socialize or to just get a requisite workout in. (And yes, I am generalizing.) We see each other every day, yet we know no names and barely speak to each other. We are not casual observers and there is rarely a novice in the room. 

There was one exception today. There was a woman in the corner that I had never seen before. She was very overweight and visibly struggling with the intensity of the class. But she hung in there. She stuck with the class until the end, and this was not a class to be taken lightly. She made me recall my first cycling experience and how I thought I might die from exhaustion, pain and embarrassment.

I hope she is there tomorrow. I hope that she comes back on Friday. I hope she knows that she is doing a great thing, and that she has support amongst the focused group. I hope she knows that she was awesome today. She was encouragement.

A Perfect Day

"There's something sinister in place; it leaves me restless with no peace. 
So it's a perfect day to turn away and run; it's a perfect day to go and tie one off.
It's a perfect day to waste away a perfect plot to play.

"It's a perfect day to hide down in my house; it's a perfect day and it's taking its toll.
It's a perfect day to waste away your perfect part to play.
Just another perfect day, but before you know it's gone." - A Perfect Day - The Constellations

It's a perfect day to play this part again.
It's a perfect day to get these words out of my head.
Just another perfect day.

There are so many reasons why this is the day...the day that I resume this little venture. It's the 2nd Month of the Year of the Golden Rabbit, it's been almost a year since I inked my left wrist, it's been way, way, way too long since my voice wasn't simply playing to an audience of one.

More importantly though, I feel like I again have things to say publicly. Ah, that's wrong. I should say, that I once again feel like it is RIGHT for me to say things aloud. In 2010 I felt it was best to stay silent. I felt raw and judged and often emotionally reckless. I tossed myself with abandon at things and people, and finally accepted how and who to let in, and when to let go. I was awaiting my long-overdue divorce, and was entering into a new and surprising life that I wasn't sure how to properly explain without exploitation. I did these things in an ultimately gratifying way. It was not always a perfect day.

Well, my hesitancy is gone, my friends! My new life and my new love have been forewarned that things often get screamed to the masses. It's been almost a year now...so the rants, the raves, the passion, the pounding on car hoods, and the  drunken revelations still probably arrive in a sometimes unexpected flurry...but I doubt they are taken poorly, and I know they are never taken with angst or anger. I no longer feel misguided or misjudged. It's a perfect day. 

I have good things and good people to talk about. I have stories that seem endless. I have heartbreaking recollections that now often sound amusing. I have inspiration from a 7-year-old with leukemia and a cause. I have motivation from a stunning man that challenges, protects, defies, and is at all times an equal. That he also provides wildly entertaining material that keeps me laughing in surprise, is my pinnacle. I have a purpose-driven life. I have this perfect day; I will not waste this perfect day.